


I'm Giving It To You

by 7r33h0u53r3fu633



Series: Giving and Taking [1]
Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Date Rape, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugged Sex, Forced Kissing, Forced Orgasm, Internalized Homophobia, Loss of Virginity, Love Confession, M/M, Oral Sex, no prep, religious homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 09:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17659775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7r33h0u53r3fu633/pseuds/7r33h0u53r3fu633
Summary: Steven's got a few questions about things. Andrew ends up answering them.





	I'm Giving It To You

**Author's Note:**

> Please take note of the warnings. This is a very dark fic.

Steven was jittery.

Andrew didn’t know the cause of the jitteriness - he wasn’t sure why, but it was beginning to _get_ to him. 

Steven was, admittedly, a fidgeter. The guy didn’t seem to have it in him to stay still, especially when he was anxious. Although what could be making him so anxious? Usually, shit that made Steven anxious resulted in life getting complicated for Andrew, even if it was just having to figure out _what_ it was that was bugging the guy so much. But there was Steven, sitting across from Andrew at the cafe, jiggling his leg and drumming his fingers on the table. 

“So… what’s up?” Andrew took a sip of his water, trying to resist the urge to start jiggling his own leg. He wasn’t a fidgeter the way that Steven was, although… well, was anyone a fidgeter the way Steven was? The guy could probably power a small city without even breaking a sweat. 

"Not much, not much," said Steven, and he took a bite of his scone. Crumbs cascaded down onto his chest, and he frowned down at them, brushing his chest off almost absently, then making eye contact with Andrew. 

Very _intense_ eye contact. 

"Is there, uh... any particular reason you thought we wanted to meet me?" _In a cafe, on a Sunday_ was not said, but strongly implied. It wasn't that Andrew didn't like Steven - he was fond of Steven! They'd been buddies for a while, they had the show together, they even spent time together when they weren't working!

But Andrew needed his weekends to be about not being on. He needed to sleep in, pet his cat, watch movies in his underwear, and generally just veg out. He could be on and ready for people once Monday rolled around, but Sundays (let alone Sundays in high, stinking summer, when it was hot enough that Andrew was loath to leave his air conditioned bedroom) were not usually times for Steven. But Steven had texted him, and he had sounded anxious enough that Andrew had agreed to meet at a cafe.

When Steven turned up at the cafe, he was dressed... nicely. His pants looked like they'd been pressed, and he was wearing a blazer, which must have been _torture_ in this hot weather. Andrew had a moment of confusion - _is this place nicer than I thought it was?_ \- and then he had remembered that Steven went to church on Sundays. And it was just about time for church to be over. As far as Andrew could tell, at any rate - it wasn't like that was a thing that he did. 

"I just wanted to talk about some stuff," Steven said, and he took a long drink of his water.

"Stuff," Andrew echoed, and he took a bite of his bagel. It was a good bagel, at least - Steven was getting very good at finding these places. "Why couldn't we talk about this stuff at work?"

"It's not... work stuff," said Steven, and he licked his lips. He was blushing - was he overheating? 

"Not work stuff," Andrew echoed. He thought, longingly, of his apartment. He'd been marathoning _Hannibal_ , and Steven had asked to get together right when he'd been getting to the bit with the wendigo. "So what kind of stuff?"

Steven fidgeted in his seat, and his fingertip ran over the rim of his glass of water, again and again. He bit his lip, and then he opened his mouth. He closed it. He opened it again, took a deep breath, and finally spoke. "Can I ask an awkward question?"

"Sure," said Andrew. "You can always talk to me." He gave Steven a smile that he hoped was reassuring. He could see Steven relaxing, just a bit, so that was a bit of a relief, right?

"You're, uh... you've had sex before, right?" Steven glanced around furtively, as if some paparazzo was sneaking up on them with a microphone, ready to pick up some scandal. 

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" He took another bite of his bagel, letting the onion-salt-poppy seed flavor wash over his tongue, offset by the almost sweet smokiness of the salmon. "I mean, yes, I have." 

"How did you know when you were... ready?" Steven looked genuinely anxious about this, and Andrew's heart softened in spite of himself. He wasn't that much older than Steven, but sometimes it felt like there was a huge gulf in their experiences. 

"Um," said Andrew, trying to find a way to frame it. He rested his elbow on the table, frowning off into the distance and trying to gather his thoughts. 

"I'm sorry," said Steven, and he sounded genuinely remorseful. "I shouldn't have -"

"I'm not insulted," Andrew interrupted, before he could be drowned in the flood of Steven's anxious babbling. "I'm just trying to find a way to say this."

"Oh," said Steven, and he cleared his throat, looking sheepish. "Right." 

"I don't know if I... realized I was ready," Andrew said at last. "I had a person who wanted to have sex with me, and I figured, since I had the opportunity, I'd go with it." 

"Oh," said Steven. "How old were you?"

"Fifteen," said Andrew.

"How old was she?" Steven had moved to shredding his napkin, twisting it into little bits in his fingers, his knuckles cracking as he did it. 

"The person I had sex with was also fifteen," said Andrew, because... well, it felt a little bit weird to tell Steven, 'oh by the way, I'm bisexual' when the guy was still in his church clothes. 

"And was it... was it good?" Steven was blushing so hard that he looked a bit like he was going to pass out.

"It was over pretty quickly," said Andrew, and he grinned in spite of himself, remembering the whole messy affair. "But it was... it was nice. And we got better. _I_ got better." 

"Right," said Steven, and he sighed, rubbing his face. He looked very tired, as if he was having complicated feelings and didn't know how to work through them. "Did you ever feel like you were, like... doing something wrong?"

"Why would I think I was doing something wrong?" Andrew raised an eyebrow, and bit his tongue. There was a time and a place for certain arguments, and this wasn't it. 

"You know, as young as you were... how did you know you were ready?" 

Andrew shrugged. "I don't regret it," he told Steven. "And it's been long enough - and I've done it enough times since then - that it's nothing but a fond memory."

"I'm glad it's a fond memory," said Steven, and now his expression was shy. "I want my first time to be... y'know, special."

"Are you still, uh...." Andrew cleared his throat.

"Yeah," said Steven, and then he sighed, a long, gusty sigh. It stirred up the little bits of shredded napkin scattered across the table. "I've just been... thinking about it a lot lately." 

"What kind of thinking?" Andrew made a vague 'I'm listening' noise, to encourage more talk. Steven looked like he needed to get… whatever this was off of his chest.

“I think I’ve found the person I want to… I want to lose my virginity to. With, You know what I mean.” Steven made a vague impatient hand gesture. “But I’m not, like… sure if I’m actually ready, or if I’m just really, uh… excited. If I just really want it.”

“Right,” said Andrew. He was of the opinion that if someone wanted it that badly, they should go get it, but what did he know? The intricacies of Steven’s own morals weren’t something that Andrew understood, but who knew anything about other people’s internal architecture? 

“And you’re… my best friend,” Steven said, and he was blushing now. “So I thought that maybe I’d ask your advice.”

“Aw, Steven,” said Andrew, and he smiled at Steven. “I’m really touched. Thank you.”

“Of course,” said Steven, and then he sighed again, his expression rueful. “I don’t think the person I want to lose my virginity is really interested, though.” 

“No?” Andrew took another bite of his bagel, then took a sip of his tea. “Have you talked to them about it?” 

“Not really, no,” said Steven. “It’s… complicated.” He bit into his scone, and somehow managed to not get himself covered in crumbs.

“What kind of complicated?” Andrew was chewing, carefully. “Are they married?”

“What? No!” Steven looked scandalized.

“In some other kind of committed monogamous relationship?”

“Of course not!”

“A polyamorous relationship?” Andrew was just poking Steven to poke him; it was more fun than it had a right to be, and Andrew had never been one to deny himself the simple pleasures in his life. 

“They’re not in _any_ kind of relationship,” Steven said, and he sounded at the end of his rope. “They’re just… you know. It’s… it’s complicated.”

Something clicked in Andrew’s head, and he tried not to let his lightbulb moment show on his face. The pronoun usage. The way Steven seemed so uncomfortable. _Oh_. So maybe things weren't exactly as he'd thought they were. 

“Well,” said Andrew, “I’ve got faith in you. You’re a good guy. I’m sure you’ll impress whoever it is that you want to lose your virginity with.”

“I hope so,” Steven said gloomily. “I just need to figure out how to do it first.” 

“Just be your normal self,” said Andrew. “You’re a great guy. I’m sure that whoever pops your cherry will have an absolutely delightful time of it.”

Steven wrinkled his nose. “It sounds gross when you say it like that,” he complained. 

Andrew took a bite of his bagel, keeping eye contact, but he didn’t say anything else.

Steven rolled his eyes, but his expression was fond. 

“But okay,” said Steven. “Here’s the next question. How do you, like… know that the person who you want to do it is the _right_ person?” 

Andrew kept chewing, his expression thoughtful. “I guess… a lot of it is trust,” he said slowly.

“But _how_ do you trust?” Steven’s voice was rising up an octave, into something that was almost a whine. It was taking effort for Andrew to not roll his eyes. “Like, how do you know they’re the one?”

“I don’t really see it as a… case of someone being the “one” in this case,” said Andrew. “It’s one of those things that you kind of end up muddling along. Which isn’t a problem, because that’s how most things in life go.”

“But… I don’t want it to go like that,” said Steven, and he was frowning. “I want it to be special. I want it to be _perfect_.” He looked thoughtful. “I want it to be with someone I’m dating, who I’m in love with. Someone who I’d want to spend my whole life with.” 

“Nothing can ever be perfect,” Andrew countered. “I mean, we can try, but there’s always gonna be some kind of fly in the ointment.”

“Well,” said Steven, “I’m going to do my best to keep my ointment was fly-free as possible.” 

Andrew snorted. That was _such_ a Steven thing to say. “You do that,’ he said. 

“I will!”

* * *

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” The two of them stood by Steven’s car, and Steven had his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. He still looked anxious.

“Yeah,” said Steven. “Just, uh… just thinking about some stuff.” He sighed, and he gave Andrew a rueful grin. “This stuff seemed easier when I was a teenager.” 

“It always does,” said Andrew. “We all figure it out eventually.” 

“Except when they don’t,” said Steven, and his expression went faintly sad. 

“I’ve got faith in you,” said Andrew, and he patted Steven on the arm. 

“Thanks, Drew,” said Steven, and he smiled at Andrew a luminescent smile that could light up a room. 

Andrew smiled back - how could he not?

* * *

It wasn’t until Andrew was back home, his feet up, that his phone buzzed at him. It was another text from Steven,

 _I forgot to tell you,_ the text read. _Joined a new church!_

 _Good on you,_ texted Andrew, since what else was he going to say? He didn’t really… get the whole church thing, but hey, it made Steven happy, which was the important part. 

_They’re a lot more open minded than my last one,_ read the text. _I’ve been realizing I need a few changes in my life._

Andrew stared at his phone, trying to formulate a response. He was _extremely_ fond of Steven, but he didn't want to deal with all of Steven’s… Stevenness. Offering some form of emotional intimacy was all well and good, except Steven might push for more. Steven might start trying to go in for hugging, or talking about deep, dark fears. That was not a thing that Andrew had the bandwidth for, nine times out of ten. But still. 

_I’m glad you’ve come to that realization,_ he typed at last. _I know that can be difficult to come to terms with._

_You’ve helped a lot, y’know,_ said Steven’s next text message.

_Glad to have helped,_ typed Andrew, and then he rested his phone on his belly and stretched, his eyes at half mast. He was going to have a Sunday afternoon nap, right here on his couch, and he was going to enjoy every decadent minute of it. 

Until his phone buzzed again.

_Can I take you to dinner? At some point, I mean, not tonight._

_Steven, our job is literally you taking me out to food,_ typed Andrew. 

_It’s not just me taking you ou! That’s Buzzfeed, taking us both out!_

_Still. You and me and food isn’t exactly a special occasion. You don’t need to ask me about it._

Andrew put the phone on silent, and rolled onto his side, his eyes sliding shut. He let his tiredness roll over him like a down comforter, and he fell into a deep, comfortable sleep. 

* * *

Andrew woke up with a nap hangover, his mouth dry and his eyes crusty. He rubbed them, and then he glanced at his phone - another text message from Steven.

_I know that us getting food isn’t a special occasion or anything,_ Andrew read, _but I still want it to be something nice. It’ll be my treat. Okay?_

_Okay,_ Andrew typed out, and then he stood up, stretching and rubbing his eyes. He was going to get a glass of water, then maybe consider ordering in for dinner. It felt like a self indulgent kind of day. 

* * *

Steven was… downright antsy at work, but Andrew didn’t think too much about it. The guy was clearly dealing with a whole bunch of emotional stuff. He’d come out okay on the other side - Steven was smart, and possessed a decent amount of emotional self awareness. 

… eventually. 

The problem was, Steven was the type of person who sorted out his feelings through talking, and it seemed that Andrew was the only person available for talking about this. Andrew was sympathetic, but could only take so much waffling. 

(He could take a whole bunch of waffles, though. They’d done a _Worth It_ episode on brunch, but why not waffles? He’d have to make a note about doing an episode on waffles.) 

It all came to a head, a few weeks after they’d had brunch together - they were on their way back from a shoot, and Andrew had hitched a ride with Steven. He kept _looking_ at Andrew out of the corner of his eye, and his expression was borderline… puppy dog. It was beginning to get on Andrew’s nerves, although he tried to keep his temper. Steven was obviously on edge about _something_. 

“Do I have something on my face?” Andrew leaned back in the passenger seat, rubbing his hands together. The sun was setting, turning the whole sky an obnoxious shade of pink. 

“Hm?” Steven was staring straight ahead, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. 

“My face,” Andrew repeated. “You keep looking at it, then looking away.” 

“Oh,” said Steven, and he cleared his throat. He was blushing now, blushing hard enough that his ears were turning red. “Well.”

“Well?” Andrew realized he was clenching his jaw, and made a point of relaxing it. Maybe all of Steven’s jumpiness was beginning to get on his nerves.

“Nothing,” Steven said quickly, although there was another darting glance at his face, not even a minute later.

“Something is _obviously_ bothering you,” Andrew said. “You can tell me. I won’t, like… judge you.” Which wasn’t strictly true, but what’s the point of friendship, if not the little white lies? 

“I just….” Steven took a deep breath, licked his lips, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. “I have feelings.”

“That’s generally what being a person is, yeah,” said Andrew dryly. 

“I heard from Curly that you’re… that you’re not straight,” Steven said in a rush. 

Andrew froze, his heart dropping down into his stomach. Acid rose up in his throat - splash back. “Did you, now?” Andrew tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible.

“Well, uh, to be more accurate,” Steven said in a rush, “I heard you talking to Curly. You said you had a… boyfriend at one point, which, uh, it strongly implies that you’ve dated guys, which suggests that you’re not straight.”

“I see,” said Andrew. His heart was beating very loudly in his ears. 

“I’m not mad,” Steven said quickly. “Or, uh, or judging you, or anything like that. My new church is, like, _super_ liberal, it’s okay with all of that stuff. I mean, within reason, obviously.” 

“Within reason,” Andrew said tonelessly. 

“Oh, obviously,” said Steven, and his tone was earnest. It was so earnest that Andrew kind of wanted punch him, and that was impressive, all things considered. He was pretty even keeled, and yet. There was something about that… what was it, condescension? It was a tone Andrew had encountered before, from well meaning folks who wanted to show that, by golly, they were _totally_ down with the queers. 

“What, pray tell, is within reason?” Andrew’s voice was cold enough to ice drinks. 

“Well, you know,” Steven said. 

“No,” said Andrew.”I don’t.” He was _aware_ of his own anger, aware of it as a tangible presence, like a third person in the car with them. 

“How do you know you like men? LIke… like them. Not just carnally. Physically. Whatever. You know what I mean.” Steven was staring straight ahead as he merged into the highway. 

“I just… do,” said Andrew. “The same way I knew I liked women.” 

“And how did you know _that_?” There was an almost desperate edge to Steven’s voice, and it was cutting through some of the angry static in Andrew’s head. 

“I just… did?” Andrew glanced over at Steven, saw Steven’s white knuckled hands on the steering wheel. A few new things fell into place. _Oh_. “Steven, do you like guys?”

“I don’t… know,” Steven said, and now _he_ was the one with the blank voice and equally blank face. “What counts as liking?”

“Do you want to kiss guys? Fuck them? Date them?” Andrew hadn’t signed up for this. He was doing it, because… well, it was Steven. He’d put up with a lot, for Steven. He _did_ put up with a lot for Steven.

“I don’t… know,” said Steven, and he sounded downright lost. His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I want… I mean, I want a lot of stuff. But a lot of that is just me being… you know, weak.” 

“It’s not weak to want companionship,” said Andrew. “I mean… don’t make it your whole life, but if you want to have sex or date or do whatever with _whoever_ , that’s… that’s totally fine, Steven. It’s not immoral or whatever.”

“You say that,” Steven said, his voice quiet. 

“But?” 

"It's... it's more complicated than that," said Steven. "I have... I have people to, y'know, worry about. My family, my church...."

"Your family and your church don't need to know about who you're going to bed with," Andrew said gently. No wonder Steven was acting so cagey, if all of this was rattling around in his head. Andrew would have been getting twitchy, too. 

"I don't want to just... go to bed with people," Steven said, and his voice sounded choked off. "I want to have a partner. I want to love the person who I have sex with."

"That's an option too, y'know," Andrew said. "You liking guys doesn't mean you have to sleep around. There are plenty of monogamous queer people." He was groping around in the dark at this point - Steven had always kept his mouth shut about what he thought about not-straight people, probably because he didn't want to get shouted at. Still, Andrew had a few theories. 

He knew the kind of things that churches spouted. 

"I just... I don't know how to go about it. To finding someone, to knowing they're good enough for me, that my parents would approve of...." Steven trailed off, and he activated the turn signal. 

"I don't really know how to help you with that," Andrew said, because... well, what _could_ he do? "But I am here, if you need someone to talk to." 

Steven shot Andrew a look, and there was so much naked gratitude in it that Andrew's stomach twisted. Was there something else in that look? No... Andrew was just gun shy. He'd had a few too many friends realize they were queer, then come on to him. Steven wouldn't do that. 

"Thanks," said Steven, and he reached out, putting a hand on Andrew's knee and squeezing it. 

Andrew put his hand over Steven's, and he squeezed Steven's hand. 

Steven sighed. "I'm going to, uh... to talk to my priest," he said. "I've been trying to muster up the courage."

"Right," said Andrew. "Are you... worried?" Steven had mentioned going to a more open minded church, but, well.... 

"I don't think I can try to, y'know, _stop_ feeling like this," Steven said, and he sounded sad. "I've tried to. I wish I didn't feel like this, but... I guess it's like lactose intolerance. You just develop it later in life." 

"Right," Andrew said flatly. "I would recommend, if you want to be part of the community at all, that you not make that comparison."

"Do you I have to be, like... part of the community?" 

"You don't _have_ to do anything," Andrew said, and maybe he sounded less put together than he meant to, because Steven shot him a look. So Andrew cleared his throat, tried again. "You don't have to do anything," he said again. "You do what makes you happy, to the best of your ability, and respect other people who do the same."

"Right," said Steven, and he sighed. "I'm sorry. This is... really complicated, and you don't need to listen to me whining."

"I know this stuff is complicated," said Andrew. "If nothing else, I've got a listening ear."

"You're a good best friend," said Steven, his tone fervent. "Thank you."

"I do my best," said Andrew, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. 

"Well, your best is pretty good," said Steven.

There was silence in the car, and Andrew tried to formulate a way to ask his next question, because... well. it was on his mind. "So... you've been giving me sidelong looks because you've been thinking about me being queer?" 

"I was thinking about how you're, uh... you're different from a lot of people that I know, like that," said Steven. "You're so, y'know, normal."

"Thanks," Andrew said flatly. 

"I mean," said Steven, and he sounded like he was about to start verbally flailing, "I don't... find anything _wrong_ with people who aren't normal, I just... if it comes down to it, I want to be normal."

"Dig up," said Andrew. 

"Hm?" 

"You're sticking your foot in your mouth," said Andrew. "I'd recommend you dig up." 

"Right," said Steven. "Sorry." 

There was an awkward silence. 

"There are, uh, resources for gay Christians," Andrew said at late, before the awkward ate him alive. "You can probably find them online. If your church is as, uh, liberal as you've been saying it is, they might have groups or whatever for that, too." 

"I don't think I'm gay," Steven said. "I still like girls." A pause, then; "I think." 

"Right," said Andrew. "Still. You might find some support, or people who get what you're going through, or... whatever."

"Right," said Steven, then; "thanks."

"Of course," said Andrew. "I know you'd do the same for me, if I was having some sort of crisis."

"Well, yes," said Steven. "But that's because we're best friends!"

"Right," said Andrew.

"And I still want to take you out to dinner," said Steven. "I feel like I extra owe it to you now."

"You don't owe me anything," Andrew protested. "I don't want you to think about it like that."

"Right," said Steven. "Sorry." 

"It's fine," said Andrew. He was beginning to get a headache, and was looking forward to being at home, by himself. He would put on sweat pants, put his feet up, and not deal with someone else's problems. Let alone someone else's problems that managed to make him both sympathetic and angry. 

"And I will take you out," Steven said, with some finality.

"Okay," Andrew said, and he grinned in spite of himself. "You do that." 

"I will!" 

* * *

Andrew went home. He put his feet up, read a book, and unwound from a day of being around people. 

So Steven was queer, huh? That was something to ponder. It _would_ explain that vibe that Andrew had been getting off of him - like something was missing, something that Steven didn’t want anyone else to guess. It would also explain why Steven had ended up at… well, _Buzzfeed_. 

Andrew yawned, rubbing his eyes, and then his phone buzzed. He groped for it, and he opened his messages. 

It was from Steven. 

_Where do you want to go for dinner? And when?_

_Friday? And wherever. I’m easy._

Steven sent a winking emoji in return, and Andrew rolled his eyes, but he was grinning a bit in spite of himself. Oh, Steven. 

At least Steven seemed to have lost some of that anxious energy - how long had he been sitting on that, anyway? For that matter, how long had Steven known Andrew was queer? Had that sparked up Steven’s own personal awakening?

… fuck it. Andrew didn’t need to ponder on this too hard. 

At least going to dinner with Steven would be nice - the guy had developed a nose for good food, and he was good company, when he wasn’t so anxious he seemed to be jumping out of his skin. 

* * *

Steven acted weird at work. 

A different kind of weird, at least. He was still shooting Andrew looks, although they were now _different_ looks. Looks that Andrew was having trouble decoding. Admittedly, Andrew wasn’t always the best at reading other people’s emotions, but… still. 

Friday rolled around, and Steven came over to visit Andrew’s desk. He leaned over, his hand on Andrew’s shoulder, and he spoke directly into Andrew’s ear. It was raising row after row of goosebumps up and down Andrew’s back. 

“Tonight,” Steven said, “wear something nice.” 

“What kind of nice are we talking here? Like, tie nice, or like sport coat nice?” Andrew looked over his shoulder at Steven, whose face was close enough that Andrew could have counted eyelashes. 

“Uh… somewhere in between,” said Steven. 

“You don’t have to, uh, go to the trouble,” said Andrew.

“I already made the reservation,” Steven said breezily, and then he was off to do who knew what.

“Right,” said Andrew to the empty air. 

* * *

Andrew went home, shaved, showered, and did all of the basic things that come with getting ready to go out. By the time he was done, he looked pretty good, if he did say so himself. His face was smooth, his hair was combed, his clothes were neat - he’d even tied his tie nicely. 

He was ready to go along with whatever it was that Steven was planning. How ridiculous could it be?

* * *

The restaurant wasn’t too ridiculous, thankfully. If it were featured on an episode of _Worth It_ , there’d only be two dollar signs, not three. It was still a bit… extravagant for Andrew’s tastes, but at least there wasn’t any gold leaf, or excessive truffles. They sat together, talking about this and that, and Andrew tried to ignore his own growing trepidation. Steven was still just… looking at him, his eyes very bright. He would glance at Andrew’s face, Andrew’s hands, Andrew’s shoulders. His eyes didn’t seem to be able to stay still, and he was talking very fast, jumping from subject to subject. Andrew did his best to keep up, although it was a bit of a losing battle. 

It wasn’t until they were eating dessert that Steven brought up what was bothering him. 

“So,” he said, in a tone so casual that it practically gave Andrew hives, “remember when we had that, uh, that conversation in the car?”

“The one where you assured me that I was normal?” Andrew’s voice was so dry it could have been used as a dehumidifier. 

“Yeah, that one,” Steven said, and he breezed right by Andrew’s sarcasm. He seemed to be very good at that. “Well, I remembered what you said.” 

“Which bit?” 

“About how I didn’t need a bunch of partners, I could just have one. And how you talked about how losing your virginity should be with someone you care about,” said Steven earnestly. 

Uh oh. 

Andrew was beginning to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“Yeah?” Andrew ran his fingers over the rim of his water glass, again and again. It didn’t ring out, at least - that would have been the icing on the cake. Andrew already felt a bit like everyone was looking at him, except… that wasn’t true. But the sense of foreboding was growing. He put a hand flat on the table, to keep from rubbing his temples. 

“Drew,” Steven said, and he was making significant eye contact and covering Andrew’s hand with his own, “I want it to be you.”

“What,” said Andrew, because even at the best of times he wasn’t always on top of his game at reacting to things, and this was very much _not_ the best of times.

“You,” Steven repeated, and his thumb was running over the top of Andrew’s knuckles. “I want it to be you. I want you to be my first, I want you to be my partner, I want you to come to church with me, I want -”

“I get the picture,” Andrew said hoarsely, and he licked his lips. His heart was beating very loud in his ears. He was going to need to handle himself very, very carefully after this. 

“I, uh… I was hoping you felt the same,” asid Steven, and his voice seemed to be coming from a long way off. His expression was full of so much anxious hope that Andrew was practically getting hives.

“I’m really flattered,” Andrew said, and his tongue was numb as he said it. “I am. I really am. But… I don’t feel the same way about you.” 

Steven’s hand withdrew, and Andrew put his own hand in his lap. “But… why not?”

“Um,” said Andrew, because this was not a conversation he wanted to be having. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he said, and he mostly meant it. “I just don’t. If I could, I’d -” 

“You can make yourself care about someone,” Steven interrupted.

“I do care about you,” Andrew said. “I do. Just… I don’t have those kinds of feelings for you.” There was an awkward pause, and Andrew added “I’m sorry,” since it felt like what he needed to do. 

“Are you… are you absolutely sure? You don’t think you could ever change how you feel?” Steven was biting his lip, and staring down into his plate. 

“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” said Andrew. 

“Why?” Steven’s voice broke. 

“I….” _I find your religiousness off putting, I don’t want to ruin the chemistry of the show, I worry I’ll just be an experiment_ “don’t date virgins,” came out of his mouth. 

“What.” It was Steven’s turn to sound flat. 

Welp. 

Andrew was in for it now. 

“I don’t date virgins,” he repeated, and he was babbling. He didn’t know how to stop. Was this what it felt like to be Steven? “It’s not that I have anything against virgins, it’s just that… you know, being someone’s first is a whole lot of pressure, and it’s a lot of work on my end, and I have sex to have _fun_ , and then people don’t even know what they like so I have to be careful and gentle, which isn’t really what I’m into, and also -”

“I think I get the picture,” said Steven. He was flushing, his cheeks hot. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Andrew said. “I mean… it’s not fine, because… you’re obviously bothered, and -”

“It’s fine,” Steven echoed, and his voice was firm. “Absolutely fine.”

“Is there anything I can… do?” Andrew’s stomach was twisting up, from the awkward, from regret. He was the biggest monster in history, wasn’t he?

Steven smiled at him, his expression as close to cynical as Steven ever got. “Apart from the obvious,” he said.

“I can’t do that,” Andrew said, and there was actual regret in his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not doing it… at me,” Steven said. “I’ll… thanks for being honest. I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” said Andrew. “I wouldn’t be anything but honest with you.”

“But you really don’t date virgins? Or… or sleep with them?” Steven was gripping his glass of water so tightly that Andrew worried it would shatter. 

“I don’t,” said Andrew, which was a blatant lie, but… well. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

“And you won’t change your stance… even for me?” Steven’s face was pleading. 

“No,” said Andrew. “I’m sorry.”

“Right,” said Steven. 

Andrew felt another fucking round of this line of questioning going, and tried to head it off at the path. “So did you find that group for gay Christians?” 

“Yeah,” said Steven. “It was… fine.” His voice was clipped, and his eyes were on the plate. 

“How much do i owe you, for the meal?” Andrew reached into his pocket, patting around for his wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steven said, and he smiled. It looked forced. “I made you sit through this awkwardness. The least I can do is take you for dinner.” 

“Still,” said Andrew. “I feel like I -”

“Just… don’t,” said Steven. He sounded very tired. “We go out to eat together often enough. Just… consider this location scouting for an episode.”

“Right,” said Andrew, and he cleared his throat. He didn’t know what to say, or where to look. So they just… sat there, in silence, until the waiter came with their bill. 

* * * 

The ride back to Andrew’s apartment was hell. Actual, for real hell. The air was so thick you could have cut it with a spoon (let alone a knife), and Steven just stared ahead as he drove. When they reached the parking lot, Andrew turned to Steven, and he cleared his throat.

“I’ll see you at work on Monday,” said Steven. He still sounded tired. “Can you… not tell anyone about any of this, please?” 

“Of course,” Andrew said, and he reached to put a hand on Steven’s shoulder… then withdrew it. That was probably sending the wrong message. 

Steven shot Andrew a wide eyed look then, his eyes very bright. “Are we still best friends?” 

“Of course,” Andrew said. “You’re still my best friend. Okay?”

“Okay,” Steven said, and he sighed. “I’ll figure something out. I promise.”

“Okay, good,” said Andrew. “Are you gonna be alright?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Steven said, and he gave a crooked sort of grin. “See you Monday?”

“Definitely see you Monday,” said Andrew. 

* * *

When Andrew went home, he took a long, hot shower. He changed out of his good clothes, and he lay on his bed, watching a movie on his laptop. His stomach was churning - all that rich food probably wasn’t doing him much good. He didn’t have the stomach for large amounts of it, unlike Steven. 

Would Steven be alright? 

Hopefully. 

Maybe he should have gone along with it, then let Steven down gently? Sure, he didn’t have feelings for Steven that way but… no. Doing that wasn’t fair to him, wasn’t fair to Steven, wasn’t fair to _anyone_. Being turned down by your first gay crush sucked, but being strung along in a relationship where only one participant was actually interested was a lot worse.

Steven would be fine. 

* * *

Andrew didn’t hear from Steven at all, the rest of the weekend. He was tempted to text, but… that seemed like it might be a bad idea. If you’d just turned down someone’s romantic advances, it seemed like bad taste to reach out to them right after. 

He went to work on Monday with some trepidation, but Steven was there, and he was just… himself. He was working so hard to be normal that Andrew almost didn’t believe they’d had the… awkward encounter. They talked like normal, the vibe was totally normal, everything was just so _devastatingly_ normal. Apart from the looks that Steven would shoot him occasionally - longing mixed with sadness, or something like that. 

But Steven wasn’t pushy, he never said anything else, and their on camera chemistry was going great. Off camera, stuff was a little stilted, but it got easier every day. 

Things were always awkward when there was a love confession. They would come out the other end of this stronger. They just had to… get to the other end.

* * *

Two months after the love confession, there was a party. Or at least, something like a party. A whole bunch of Buzzfeed folks got together and went to a bar, and people bitched and moaned about the state of things (in the world, at their company, in their lives). It was a thing that happened every couple of weeks, and usually Andrew went along. He liked his coworkers, for the most part. He liked booze. He liked booze he didn’t have to pay for. Win-win all around, really. 

This time, Steven came along, and _that_ was unexpected - Steven wasn’t usually one for drunken carousing. But then again, he’d loosened up a bit. He wasn’t as handsy as he’d been - Andrew wasn’t sure if he missed the easy body language, or if it was a relief to not be swatting hands away - but he seemed to just be relaxing. Maybe he was finally coming into his own. They ended up standing next to each other, leaning against the bar and just… talking and people watching. 

“That guy is cute,” Steven said at one point, indicating a man milling by the entrance, as the bouncer checked his ID. 

“Yeah? You didn’t strike me as the type who’d go in for hipsters.” Andrew kept his tone light. They hadn’t actually talked about Steven’s big revelation about himself since the awkward love confession. 

“I like broad shoulders,” Steven said, his eyes glued on the other man. “And beards. I think I like beards.” 

Andrew resisted the urge to reach up and feel his own face, which was, yes, bearded. 

“I’ve always preferred clean shaven guys myself,” he said, to break some of the awkward. “It saves you from beard burn.” 

“I never really thought of that,” Steven admitted. “It just looks like it feels good.” 

“It can,” said Andrew. “Just… beard burn. Especially if it’s in, uh… interesting places.”

“Right,” said Steven. He looked like he was blushing, although it was hard to tell in this dim light. “Can I buy you another drink?”

Andrew looked down at his drink - gin and tonic - and shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “Go for it.”

“More of the same?” The bartender was on the far end of the bar, and Steven was already making his way towards ber. 

“Yeah, sure,” said Andrew. 

Steven, at least, seemed to have calmed down. Maybe the lovesick looks would stop - especially if Steven was at the point of pointing out cute guys at bars. It would all be alright.

* * *

It wasn’t until Andrew was three drinks in that things began to feel a bit weird. 

He was leaning heavily on the bar, to keep from falling over, his hands white knuckled on the bar. If he moved too much, he was going to fall over. His stomach was trying to heave, and his legs were unsteady under him. He was going to fall over, or throw up, or both at once. He was, to his dismay, leaning on Steven, and Steven had an arm around his waist.

“You okay, Drew?” Steven sounded concerned. 

Andrew opened his mouth to say something, and then he listed to the side. It was a good list, too - a tree that had just been chopped but hadn’t yet fallen couldn’t have done better. He was observing all of this from a long way off, as his body tilted over, and then he was flat on the floor, his head throbbing, staring up at the ceiling. 

Very soon, there were a whole sea of upside down faces over his, and he blinked up at them, uncomprehending. 

“I think Andrew’s had too much to drink,” said Ryan from off to Andrew’s left. 

“I dunno,” said Sara, who was on his right… maybe. Everything was spinning. “I’ve seen him drunk before. He doesn’t usually fall over.”

“He said he wasn’t feeling well earlier,” said Steven, and Andrew frowned, trying to remember if he’d said that. Everything was foggy right now. 

“He should go home,” said… someone’s voice, Andrew couldn’t even tell, but he was being pulled upright, and his stomach lurched. Everything was still _spinning_ , and his head hurt. 

“I’ll take him,” said Steven.

“Don’t… gotta,” Andrew mumbled, his tongue too big for his mouth, somehow. 

“Don’t worry about it, Drew,” said Steven. “You just had too much to drink.”

How much had he had to drink? He didn’t remember right now - his eyes were so heavy, his _limbs_ were so heavy, everything was just so… much. He leaned into Steven, his eyes drooping shut, as people made concerned noises around him. 

A hand was on his shoulder, and he looked into Ryan’s concerned face.

“You sure you’re okay, dude?” Ryan looked worried. 

“He’s just drunk,” Steven assured him. 

“I dunno, I’ve seen Andrew drunk,” said Ryan. He looked unconvinced. 

“He was sick, remember?” Sara put a hand on Andrew’s head, and he leaned into it. Her skin was cool, and he was… hot. So hot. Overheated. 

“Right,” said Ryan. “Take care of yourself, buddy.” 

“Our ride is here,” said Steven. “One of you guys mind helping me?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Ryan, and then there was a shoulder under Andrew’s armpit, and he was being led, stumbling, towards the outside of the bar. The hot air was like a slap in the face, and he groaned. 

“C’mon, Drew, you’re okay,” said Steven, right in Andrew’s ear. “You’ll be okay. We’ll just get you home, you’ll be fine.” 

“‘S’right,” Andrew mumbeled, still slumped against Steven. His head hurt, like he had a hangover, but it was more than that. “I need… to… for the car.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steven repeated.

And then they were in the car. 

There must have been in intermediary step - the two of them had to have gotten into the car, especially with Andrew leaning on Steven like this, there had to have been some _arranging_ \- but he didn’t remember it.

“I’m worried about you,” Steven said, and he was speaking directly in Andrew’s ear now. It was raising more goosebumps. “I’ll come up with you.”

“You don’t… need to,” Andrew mumbled, and he peeked one eye open. He closed it again pretty quickly - the lights were going by, making his stomach heave, and he made a discontented noise. 

“Yeah, but you’d do the same for me,” Steven said, with some confidence. 

“Mmm,” Andrew mumbled. It was easier to keep his eyes shut at this point, and try not to pay attention to the rocking of the car, or the way his head hurt. He’d go home, drink some water, sleep in his own bed. He’d get ribbed to hell and back at work, but he’d be fine. 

* * *

Andrew came back to himself in front of his front door, with Steven’s hand down his front pocket. He blinked at Steven’s face, which was a few inches from his own, and he tried to jerk back. Steven’s hand was very solid in his pocket, and very warm. It was the most intimate Steven had ever touched him, and the sensation was giving him goosebumps. 

… okay, so it had been a while since he’d been touched intimately. He’d been busy enough with work that he hadn’t had a chance to see any of his regular fuckbuddies, as desperately as he wanted to. Although now was _not_ the time to get an erection, oh fuck. 

“I need to get your keys,” Steven said, his expression apologetic. “I asked you three times, but you didn’t seem to hear me.” 

“Lemme… hold on,” Andrew slurred, and he dug through his pocket. It was very crowded, considering the fact that Steven’s hand was in there too, and he ended up squeezing Steven’s hand as he pulled his keys free. 

And promptly dropped them. 

“Well,” Steven said, and he laughed, “I guess that’s one step, right?” 

“‘M sorry,” Andrew mumbled, and he made to bend down… then stopped. If he lowered his head anymore, he’d probably fall over, and he didn’t need that. He didn’t remember _ever_ being this drunk, although it must have been a thing, because it was happening, right?

Maybe they used extra strong gin. 

“Don’t be,” said Steven. “I’ve been dying for a reason to come over, anyway.” He unlocked Andrew’s front door without any trouble, and then he was helping Andrew in. 

Andrew flopped onto his couch, his eyes sliding shut. “I’ll… give you the nickel tour. Living room, kitchen, bedroom.” He made a vague hand gesture, then flopped his hand back down, where it landed with a “wumf” on the couch.

“You should be in the bedroom,” Steven said, with some authority. “You can lie down.”

“Right,” Andrew said. “You can head home. ‘M gonna be fine.” He had no idea if that was true, but it had to be more or less right. Hopefully. 

“I don’t want you to, like, choke to death on your own vomit,” said Steven as he helped Andrew up. “C’mon. I’ll get you a glass of water when you’re in bed.”

“Shoes,” Andrew said, because that seemed vitally important. “No shoes.” 

“I’ll help you take your shoes off,” said Steven, “I just don’t want you to sit down and then not be able to get up.” He was pulling Andrew along, and he was remarkably strong - much stronger than he had a right to be. 

“Okay,” Andrew said, because what else was he going to do? He was just kind of… going along with it, since he was being dragged anyway. And then he was sitting on his bed, awkwardly looking down at Steven carefully unlaced his shoes, then pulled them off. The air was cold against Andrew’s bare feet, and when had his feet gotten bare? 

Steven must have taken his socks off. Huh.

“Water?” Andrew licked his lips, which were very dry. His whole mouth felt dry, actually, his tongue like an old sponge. 

“Of course,” said Steven, and he was heading towards the kitchen. “So can I ask an awkward question?” 

“Mmm?” Andrew flopped back, which made the room stop spinning a little bit. He closed his eyes tightly, and luxuriated in the softness, his toes sinking into the rug. 

“What was it like when you lost your virginity?” There was the sound of water running. 

“It was… nice,” Andrew said, because that was all he could really think of. “I was a kid, kind of. It was… it happened. It was a thing.” He closed his eyes, and it was as if he was being pulled down into a deep, dark pit. 

There were hands at his belt, and he mumbled something, but lifting his arms took too much effort. They seemed to weigh a million tons. Each. 

“It’s not good for you to sleep with your belt on,” Steven said, and that was very sensible. Andrew might even have agreed, if he could use his mouth. It didn’t seem to be working. “I’m just helping you out, don’t worry about it.” His hands were very gentle, as they slid the belt out, then unbuttoned Andrew’s pants. 

_Probably not good for you to sleep with your pants done up either,_ Andrew thought. _Steven sure is a nice guy._

“Can you sit up?” Steven had a hand under Andrew’s elbow, and he was guiding Andrew up right.

“Think… so,” Andrew mumbled, although his nose was pressed into Steven’s chest now. He smelled a little bit like laundry detergent. Or maybe that was the shirt. Andrew’s thoughts seemed to be moving in sluggish waves, like a lake made of molasses. His head was tilted back, and the rim of a glass was pressed against his lower lip. 

He swallowed water, and it was sweeter than honey. 

“Thanks,” Andrew croaked, as he was carefully laid flat again. His eyes were sliding shut, drowning in the deep well of sleep once again.

“But when you lost your virginity,” Steven persisted, “was it _special_.” 

“Mhm,” Andrew murmured, already falling asleep. He heard Steven’s voice speaking to him, but couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter - he was already asleep. 

* * *

Andrew was woken up by cool air on his lower belly. Cool air and warm hands. He was too tired to shove them off, but it was a thing that was happening, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Steven was still here, and he was talking.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Steven said, and his voice was quiet, but very earnest. Steven’s fingertips were trailing down, through the hair under Andrew’s navel, where it disappeared into Andrew’s waistband. His finger slid _under_ the waistband, into the tender indent where the elastic pressed into Andrew’s skin, and Andrew tried to say something, but nothing came out. 

“You’re so hairy,” Steven said, and he sounded amused. He pushed Andrew’s shirt up further, baring more skin to the cool air, and then he was stroking into the thick hair between Andrew’s nipples, that went down to Andrew’s stomach. “I’ve seen bits of it, obviously, we’ve shared hotel rooms and stuff, but I never, uh… never thought I’d touch it.” 

Andrew slipped back into the darkness of sleep - the touching was gentle enough that it wasn’t really registering. He probably should have been more upset about all of this, but he was just _so_ drunk. He’d have a talk with Steven about boundaries, when he was sober. Maybe introduce Steven to some guys he knew. Steven liked broad shoulders and beards and (apparently) body hair. Andrew knew a whole lot of guys who fell into those categories. The last thing he was aware of, before he fell fully asleep, was cool air on lower thighs. He probably should have been alarmed at that, but… fuck it. 

* * * 

There was a hot mouth on Andrew’s cock. 

He was aware of that before he was aware he was awake - someone was clumsily sucking him off, their hands on the insides of his bare thighs, their breath hot as it ruffled his pubic hair, their spit puddling down onto his groin, to drip over his balls and down the crack of his ass. They were sucking, clumsily, and occasionally they’d take his cock a little deeper, then gag, their throat constricting around the head of his cock. He moaned, because he was halfway to hard, and if he could have moved his arms, he might have put his hand on the back of their head, hump up into it. 

He was swimming in and out of consciousness, and his body seemed to be made of lead, sinking into his mattress like a weight on a rubber sheet. Or was that a physics metaphor? It felt like it was a physics metaphor.

His mind was following that thought, and he seemed to be floating a little bit away from his body. Some part of him was experiencing a clumsy blowjob, but then he remembered who he was home with, and he forced his eyes open, looking down the line of his own body.

He was looking at the top of Steven’s head. The hair was a pale, pale lavender, although it seemed to have lost most of the product that made it spiky. And the mouth on Andrew’s cock was Steven’s. 

Wait. No. That made no sense. Steven didn’t suck cock. Steven was a virgin ( _not so much anymore, though_ ) and Steven wasn’t one for casual sex, and Andrew hadn’t said that Steven could do it. So why was Steven doing it in the first place?

Andrew made some kind of noise, and Steven moaned around the cock - around _Andrew’s_ cock - and sucked harder. 

Andrew was getting harder, and that was a problem, because this was very much not a thing he wanted. His cock was throbbing like something painful, and he wished he could just… deflate it. _See, Steven, nothing doing, go home and let me sleep._ But no, he was hard - hard enough he was starting to leak pre-come, hard enough that Steven was pulling off, coughing, and he looked up at Andrew, his chin shiny with drool and his lips swollen.

“I, uh… I read about it,” Steven said, and he sounded shy. “About how to… you know, how to make someone feel good. With your mouth.” He licked his lips, and his tongue was very pink. “I wanted to do that for a while.”

“Why?” That wasn’t the question that Andrew should have asked - Andrew _should_ have said “leave” or “stop,” but he didn’t, he just… let it happen. Steven’s hand was curled around his cock now, stroking him, and this was a lot smoother. Maybe it was the way that Steven jerked off? 

“Because you’re so hot,” Steven said, and his thumb was spreading pre-come across the head of Andrew’s cock, then lower, along the frenulum, along his circumcision scar. “I… I knew it was wrong, to want you so badly, but it’s not wrong if I’m in love with you. And I am. That’s what my new church says, that it’s okay, as long as it’s love. And I love you. I love you, and I know you’d never let me show you. I wanted to show you, but I had to take a few… y’know, extra steps.” 

Andrew shuddered, and his eyes slid shut again. He couldn’t deal with this - it was all too overwhelming, he was too reluctant and too horny at the same time, his cock drooling pre-come, his stomach twisting with a mix of revulsion and arousal. He seemed to be floating outside of himself, and stuff was just… happening. At some point, he came back to himself, and he found Steven rolling a condom onto him, squeezing it, and then there was lube, cold and sticky, being drizzled across him. Where had Steven gotten lube or the condom? From Andrew's bedside table?

“I’ve never done this before,” Steven said solemnly, and Andrew forced his eyes open, even as the overhead light shone into them, making his headache worse.

And then Steven was blocking it out, and Steven was… what was Steven doing? Steven was… oh no. 

Andrew sobbed, as Steven sank down onto his cock, slowly, agonizingly slowly. _Is there lube? There must be lube, this is too smooth. Where did he get the condom?_ Andrew’s cock was surrounded by hot, squeezing heat, and it was tighter than anything that he’d ever had before - he’d never slept with a virgin before, not like this. He looked dully into Steven’s face, and Steven stared down at him, open mouthed, his eyes wide. Steven was _incredibly_ tight, and Andrew’s cock was met with resistance, at first - had Steven even prepped himself, or just added lube and gone to town? God, this was all such a mess. 

Steven was taking deep, gulping breaths of air, and he was shaking as he rolled his hips forward, clenching. “God, Andrew, you’re so big,” he said, and his voice broke like a record. “You’re… I never thought it would feel so… oh, _god_ , this is perfect!” He rolled his hips, clenching again, and he was beginning to bounce, just a bit. Had he watched porn or something, to figure out how this worked? 

Maybe Andrew would have to ask that, when this was all over. _When you were making the plans to rape me, did you watch porn for pointers?_

The “r” word passed over his mind like a sheet of ice, and it killed any lust that he’d been feeling, stopping it in his tracks. His cock, which had been throbbing, at least a bit of a way towards an orgasm, began to soften. 

Steven didn’t notice that for a few minutes - he kept grinding down, and his own cock was dripping, leaving wet spots on Andrew’s stomach, matting up the hair there. It was almost like torture - it was uncomfortable, and Andrew kept drifting in and out - he’d space out, following some bit of a thought, and then he’d jolt back into his body, and he’d be… here, with his best friend riding his dick. His best friend, who he didn’t want to fuck, was using him as a means to an end. He was so tired, and without the lust to drive him forward, he was just… sliding back into sleep, without even thinking about it. The last thing he was aware of was Steven climbing off of him, and he sighed. Maybe he’d be able to go to sleep for good now. His cock was wet and sticky against his thigh, the condom loose as he got softer. 

* * *

Andrew was woken up by a strain in his thighs. He was dreaming - sort of - and in the dream, he was sitting on a horse that was too big for him, forcing his thighs to open too widely, and then there was something probing at his asshole, and wait, no, that wasn’t a good thing. He swam up through the inky darkness of sleep, and he blinked his eyes open. 

To find himself looking into Steven’s eyes. 

Steven was holding his thighs open, and Steven was… what was Steven doing? Andrew couldn’t tell - he could see that Steven had a bottle of something in his hand, and he was squeezing it, but that was it. Was it lotion? 

And then something hot and slippery and blunt pressed against Andrew’s hole, and Andrew groaned, his mouth falling open. So lube. Not lotion. 

“I was gonna use a condom,” Steven said, and he was pushing his hips forward, holding Andrew’s ass open with both hands, “but it ripped when I was trying to put it on. So I took it as a… as a sign. Oh, wow, Andrew, you feel… you feel amazing.” His face tightened up, his head thrown back, his hair pasted down with sweat.

If this had been different circumstances - if Andrew hadn’t been drunk, if Andrew had _wanted_ this - it might have been hot. Steven’s face was taking on the sweet, vulnerable cast that everyone’s did, when they entered another person’s body with their own body. His cock was thick and hot, and he clearly hadn’t prepared Andrew at all. There was resistance, but not much of it. 

It was, in a lot of ways, like the way that Andrew had last had sex - his fuck buddy had thrown him onto the bed, spread his legs as wide as they’d go, and fucked him, ankles around his ears. They hadn’t even taken their clothes off, hadn’t bothered with a condom, just poured on lube. And now Andrew was in a similar position, with a similar sensation, and his cock remembered. Fuck his everything, but he was getting hard already.

“This is… better than I could imagine,” Steven panted, and he was all the way in. There was a lot more dick than Andrew had expected - he was noticing it clinically, as Steven stroked him, spreading pre-come along his shaft, his cock twitching inside of Andrew. “I know that we’re… we’re not supposed to do this if we’re not m-m-married, that’s what my church told me, oh….” He was beginning to thrust, his cock barely leaving the heat of Andrew’s ass, before pushing back in. His balls were slapping against Andrew’s ass, and it was some mix of gross and weird. “And… and see, now you don’t… have to do any… work, oh _fuck_ , Andrew!”

Andrew closed his eyes again, tilting his head back, his chest heaving. His mind wanted this to stop - he didn’t want to have sex with Steven - let alone being Steven’s _first_ \- he didn’t want to deal with all of the fallout that was going to come after this. But his body wanted this - oh, but did his body want it. Steven’s cock was brushing against his prostate, and Steven’s fist was tight and sure around Andrew’s cock, jerking it with a lot more confidence than Andrew would expect. Lust was beginning to build in his belly, curdling like old milk. 

“I love you, Drew,” Steven said in a rush, and he was beginning to pick up. He had a lot of stamina for a virgin, come to think of it, and Andrew would have to commend him on that, when this was done. _You’ve got good stamina when you commit date rape, Steven, you should put it on your resume._

It startled a laugh out of Andrew, or at least a smile (he couldn’t really… tell), and then Steven was forcing his cock in deeper, his chest was pressed against Andrew’s, and he was… he was kissing Andrew. His tongue was in Andrew’s mouth, and Andrew could taste his own pre-come on Steven’s tongue, as Steven began to fuck him in earnest. He was a sloppy, desperate kisser, licking Andrew’s mouth, nipping Andrew’s lips or sucking Andrew’s tongue. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that Andrew wasn’t responding - his hips were driving forward faster. It was making the bed shake, and it was the fact, grueling pace that always made Andrew come like a firehose. 

He was already on the way to that - when had _that_ happened? Maybe he could get it over with - if he could get Steven to come quickly, maybe then it would just be over, and Andrew could… what? Sleep? Take a shower? Call some hotline? What was he even supposed to do, when this was over? 

Steven was breathing on his face, his breath hot, and it occurred to Andrew, belatedly, that this wasn’t just drunk, was it? 

“What’d you… give me?” Andrew managed to croak, and then he moaned and hated himself, because Steven was pressing down on the slit of his cock and filling him almost completely, his other hand in Andrew’s hair, pulling Andrew’s head back. The little darts of pain were making Andrew’s cock swell and throb, trapped between the two of them, thick and hot in Steven’s hand. 

“I’m giving you my cock,” Steven said, and it was absurd, hearing that bit of dirty talk come out of Steven’s mouth. Then; “I love you, Drew. I’m giving you… myself. All of me. I want you to have it.”

_I don’t want it_ was on the tip of Andrew’s tongue, but then Steven’s hand was speeding up, his thumb pressing down on the underside of Andrew’s cock and his cock beginning to throb in Andrew’s ass. He knew the harbinger of an ass full of come, and he sighed with something that might have been relief. At least it would be over with, right?

Only… Steven was speeding his hand up, and he was kissing Andrew on the mouth, a rough, hard kiss, and it seemed like he was forcing an orgasm out of Andrew - he was forcing Andrew to stay in his own body, and that wasn’t fair. Andrew didn’t want to be here - he wanted to be anywhere else, even on the floor at the bar. Not here, split open on his best friend’s cock, his best friend’s tongue in his mouth, ignoring whatever reluctance that Andrew had. 

Andrew came first, and that was the embarrassing cherry on the humiliation sundae, wasn’t it? Not only was he being raped on his own bed by his best friend, but he _came_ from it - he came before the virgin! He moaned as it happened, his come wet and sticky, already matting up the hair on his stomach, his ass squeezing Steven’s cock so hard that he could feel every pulse of it. The pleasure was sweet, but it had an unpleasant undertone to it, like candies coated in arsenic. Was he going to be think of this, every time he had an orgasm? Remember lying on his bed like a dead fish, feet dangling off the edge, Steven plowing him like a field. 

And then Steven went utterly still, and he cried out in Andrew’s ear, his hips jerking forward and his cock shooting hot come into Andrew’s ass. He was shaking, and he was mumbling… something, but Andrew didn’t know. He didn’t really care. Steven was lying on top of him like a sweaty blanket, and his come was already starting to leak out of Andrew’s ass, down the skin, to puddle under Andrew. 

It was gross and sticky, itchy. 

“That was… amazing,” Steven said, right in Andrew’s ear, and he kissed the hinge of Andrew’s jaw. “That was so much better than I could ever imagine it. The next time, I’ll be good enough that you can finish inside of me.” He pulled out, carefully, and Andrew sighed with relief when he was empty again. He was already drifting back down, sleep covering him like a snowdrift. 

He was aware, distantly, of a warm washcloth on his hole, a hand holding him open, the washcloth carefully cleaning him up. Then a kiss was pressed against his temple. “We can talk about going to church tomorrow,” Steven said, right in his ear. “It’s gonna be great, Drew. I can’t wait.”

And Andrew’s stomach sank like a stone. He followed it down, and let sleep take him.


End file.
